


4:30 AM

by marigoldfaucet



Series: mentha [3]
Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 21:25:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2323673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marigoldfaucet/pseuds/marigoldfaucet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fic. AU. Some gifts are given when they are needed most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	4:30 AM

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings // AU
> 
> Prompt for the Feels for Fíli Art and Fic Mini Contest // #3 Movie Night / Terry Pratchett’s Hogfather
> 
> Runner-up in the Feels for Fíli Art and Fic Mini Contest // #3 Movie Night / Fic
> 
> This is un-beta’d.

—

"OH, THERE HAS TO BE SOMETHING IN THE STOCKING THAT MAKES A NOISE, said Death. OTHERWISE, WHAT IS 4:30 AM FOR?"  
—Terry Pratchett,  _Hogfather_

—

There are some moments, such as this Hogswatchnight, where the fate of reality seems to hang, where heroes meet villains and things of importance happen somewhere between. This is not that tale at all. This is the tale of a little boy, whose mother is sad and his father is gone, an important question that needs asking and an answer (and a gift) that only Death can give.

Somewhere, there is a grander story unfolding and undoubtedly these two tales will meet; the best stories always do. Like strangers in the dark, they pass the other by, completely unaware that they have met at all. For how does one story know that the other is not simply a part of itself?

So, while the erstwhile heroes of Hogswatch attempt to ensure the rising of the sun and continuation of human belief, Fíli, a child of only seven-and-a-bit, is currently attempting to convince his uncle Thorin to take him to see the Hogfather. He's asked his Ma twice already, but she's too sad and too tired to take her children any place that promises happiness and joy.

"Uncle you promised you would take us," Fíli whines, trailing after Thorin like a tiny, blonde shadow. "And you  _promised_  to keep your  _promises_."

"Where did you hear that?" asks Thorin.

"You said so to Ma," Fíli asserts, because it was only last week that Thorin had  _sworn on the blood of his ancestors_  that he would always keep his promises. "You were all grumpy because you drank too much and you said—"

"Okay!" Thorin exclaims, flushing with embarrassment as Dwalin (who claimed only to be stopping by, but stayed for dinner and desert, before eating all the Hogswatch cookies; plus the sherry left out for the Hogfather, all three pork pies and a turnip) tries to hide his snicker with a cough.

"Don't interrupt the lad," Dwalin says with a wink. "What did Thorin say, Fíli?"

"Unc—" Fíli begins, but Thorin claps a large hand over his mouth.

"Get your coat," Thorin says, glaring at Dwalin. Fíli lets out a  _whoop_  of joy, running off towards his shared room as Thorin shouts after him: "And don't forget your mittens or your hat!"

Fíli is quick about getting ready, though his boots (bearing an impressive number of bite marks) take a considerable amount of time without his Da to help navigate the buckles and laces, but he does the best he can (though Dwalin has to redo the laces for him) and races to the door. He stops only to say goodbye to Dís, his farewells offered through the lacquered oak door. No answer comes, no  _I love you_ 's or  _be safe_ 's are exchanged like parent's are supposed to when their children go off without them, but the crying has stopped, leaving Fíli faced with nothing but silence and an old, locked door.

"Fíli!" Thorin calls, accompanied by Kíli's cry of  _Fíwi_!

"Coming!" Fíli calls back, casting one last look at the door before hurtling his way through the hallway, down the stairs, out the front door and into the snow swept streets. Thorin follows after him, Kíli held aloft in his arms. Dwalin bids them farewell at the garden gate, promising to return the following day with gifts and treats for their Hogswatch feast.

"Wait a moment!" Dís calls from the door, keys jingling slightly as she turns them in the lock. She quickly closes the distance between them, handing the keys to a demanding Kíli; who immediately sticks the pointiest one in Thorin's ear with a bubbling giggle.

"I'm coming too," Dís says firmly, a smile tugging at her lips as she tucks a bundle of blue ribboned letters into her coat pocket, and though she still looks too sad and too tired, she looks happier than she has in months.

The walk to the Maul, located in Central Ankh-Morpork, is relatively short, filled with questions and chatter, and most important of all,  _laughter_ (usually at Thorin when Kíli manages to stick another key in his ear). Fíli catches Thorin softly ask Dís, more than once, if she is okay and though each time her answer is  _no_ , the added  _but I will be_  gives him hope and strengthens his resolve.

There is a question Fíli must ask the Hogfather. It's a silly question, one unlikely to be answered favourably, but there is no one else to turn to for help.

"Ma!" Fíli exclaims when they finally push their way into Crumley's, pulling Dís towards the Hogfather's grotto where, stood over the destroyed, pink remains of Crumley's fake pigs, four live boars happily snuffled and snorted. "Look at the piggies!"

"Oh my," Dís blushes, covering Fíli's eyes with her hand and shuffling them into the line. "It's doing a wee."

"That doesn't seem sanitary," Thorin says, crinkling his nose.

"Can you stay with them?" Dís asks after a moment, watching as other people mill about the store searching for last minute gifts. "I need buy some  _things_  and more food. I don't need anyone poisoned on Hogswatch."

"Your faith in my ability as a cook astounds me," Thorin states dryly.

"It's not you I worry about," Dís teases. "It's Dwalin and that bread of his."

"To be fair," Thorin says. "Fíli and Kíli ate all their dinner without a single complaint."

Fíli shudders at the thought of being subjected to Dwalin's bread again, having lost a tooth at the mere sight of it last time. It's a lot like Dwarf bread, or so Thorin says, made without the added gravel but just as solid and just as horrible.

"They tried to eat their own boots!" Dís hisses. Fíli looks down at his boots, the teeth marks where he had tried to eat through the thick leather. One will eat anything when they've got Dwarf bread, or Dwalin bread, to avoid.

"I will watch them Dís," Thorin says, quickly changing the subject. Dís had not been happy to find one child attempting to gnaw through their shoes and the other trying to gum the flesh off their arm. The resulting argument was one neither Thorin, nor Dwalin, stood a chance to win.

"What would I do without you?" Dís asks with a smile.

"Aren't you going to stay Ma?" Fíli asks suddenly, cutting off whatever witty retort lay on the tip of Thorin's tongue. He suddenly feels very frightened, looking at all these grown people pushing and rushing about the store. "What if you get lost?"

"I won't get lost," Dís assures.

"Promise?" Fíli asks, holding up his pinkie finger. Dís wraps her own pinkie around his, curling them together and pressing a kiss to Fíli's woollen capped head: " _Promise_."

Fíli watches Dís disappear into the crowd, before turning his attention back to the line before him. There aren't that many children nor is the line all the long, but, like in all aspects of life, when there is important business to be done, the line seems very long indeed.

Yet, perhaps, if Fíli had been aware of what awaited him in that little grotto, he might not have been quite so eager to see the Hogfather. For what Fíli doesn't know, what many in fact do not, shall not and cannot know, is that the Hogfather, weakened by the dwindling amount of childish belief, has been temporarily replaced by Death in an effort to stem the errant tide of un-belief.

Perhaps, Fíli never would have asked his question, had he known, but then Death never would have given him an answer and Fíli might have stopped believing in things like Hogfather's, tooth fairies and bogeymen.

Perhaps, the on the coming morning, the sun would not have risen and a great ball of gas and flame would have illuminated the Disc as it plunged into a faithless oblivion, but Fíli does not know what awaits him and the question remains still in his heart.

"Hello," he says, staring at the Hogfather, who, as previously mentioned, is not the Hogfather at all, rather Death in with a pillow down his front and a false beard on his face. It doesn't frighten Fíli, because Thorin stands a short ways away and Thorin can defeat bogeymen and monsters and bandits and thieves. A skeleton shouldn't be too much trouble. Nor the vile looking pixie (who is in fact Death's servant, Albert) with the cigarette and besides, the Hogfather isn't frightening or cruel or any such terrible thing—unless you've been naughty, of course.

"I'm Fíli," he adds, holding up six fingers. "I'm seven."

HELLO, greets the Hogfather, voice deep and echoing though his mouth does not move. HAVE YOU BEEN A GOOD INDIVIDUAL?

"Uncle says I've been really good," Fíli nods.

IS YOUR UNCLE THE MAN WITH THE SMALL CHILD ATTACHED TO HIS FACE? asks the Hogfather.

"Uh huh," Fíli nods, watching Thorin attempt to untangle Kíli tiny fingers from his beard. "And that's my little brother Kíli. He's two."

I SEE, the Hogfather says, wincing slightly as Thorin manages to pull Kíli from his face with a painful tug, suddenly glad of his own inability to grow a beard. AND WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE FOR HOGSWATCH, FÍLI?

"Can you—" Fíli starts, his throat tight with sudden anxiety. He knows he has to ask, but he's so afraid and this is so very important. "Can you find my Da?" he asks quietly, afraid Thorin might over hear and think him irrevocably foolish. "He went away and didn't come back like he promised he would. Uncle says he died and that's why Ma is so sad all the time, but he  _promised_  he'd be back for Hogswatch! He must've gotten lost or…or…or  _something_ , because Da  _always_  keeps his promises. There weren't any letters…"

I DO NOT THINK— the Hogfather begins, but stops, unsure what to say.  _WISE_  springs to mind as does;  _INTELLIGENT, PRUDENT, SENSIBLE_ and  _SMART_ , but then belief has never stood well against any of those words.

" _Please_ ," Fíli cries, tears slipping down his red cheeks. Thorin draws in a sharp breath behind him, high and wet, accompanied by a soft thud, but Fíli no longer cares if he hears. "I don't want any presents! All I want is for Da to come back and Ma to be happy again."

I—UM… the Hogfather says, looking to his pixie for help.

"I think what the Hogfather here is trying to say," The pixie says, rolling another cigarette. "Is that Death has a strict 'no returns' policy."

YES, THAT IS THE WAY OF THINGS, the Hogfather nods. It breaks Fíli's heart and it must show on his face, because the Hogfather hastily adds: MY APOLOGIES.

"That's okay," Fíli sniffs. He might be only seven-and-a-bit, but he understands enough to know the finality of a situation and, despite his high hopes, he already knew what the answer will be. "I knew it was silly."

THERE ARE MANY SILLY THINGS IN THIS WORLD, FÍLI, the Hogfather says, putting a large, gloved and bony hand on Fíli's shoulder. FOOLS, SOCKS, PHILOSOPHERS; BUT BELIEF, THAT IS NOT A SILLY THING. WITHOUT IT THE SUN WOULD NOT RISE AND THEN WHERE WOULD YOU BE? HUMANITY WOULD STILL BE CLAWING AT THE DARK. THERE WOULD BE NO BEAUTY, NO IMAGINATION, NO FANTASY: THERE WOULD BE NO MONSTERS, NO HOGFATHERS OR TOOTH FAIRIES AND IF THESE FAIL TO EXIST, THEN THERE WOULD BE NO JUSTICE, NO MERCY, NO DUTY.  _THERE WOULD BE NO SUNRISE_. I MAY NOT BE ABLE TO RETURN YOUR FATHER TO YOU, BUT YOU ARE NOT SILLY TO  _BELIEVE_  IT.

"Why won't the sun rise?" Fíli asks, eyes wide.

IF YOU DO NOT BELIEVE THE SUN WILL RISE, THEN HOW CAN A SUNRISE TRULY BE? shrugs the Hogfather. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?

Fíli nods, hat slipping over his eyes.

GOOD, the Hogfather says, fixing the hat. IS THERE ANYTHING ELSE YOU WOULD LIKE FOR HOGSWATCH?

Fíli thinks. He really doesn't want anything else, but if he had to pick then…"A cat?"

CATS ARE NICE, nods the Hogfather, turning to his sack and rummaging inside for a bit. Fíli eyes go wide as, with a loud  _AH_ , the Hogfather pulls out a small ginger kitten. I LIKE CATS, he says, stroking the kitten lightly before handing it to Fíli.

"We used to have one," Fíli smiles, holding the kitten gently in his arms. "But she left when Mister Dwalin stood on her tail."

THIS MISTER DWALIN, the Hogfather asks, voice low. HAS HE BEEN NAUGHTY OR NICE?

"He's really nice," Fíli replies. "Though he likes to pretend he's scary and sometimes he and Uncle do naughty things when they drink too much."

The Hogfather chuckles, eyes turning to the family that waits behind Fíli. I BELIEVE YOUR BROTHER ALSO WISHES TO SPEAK WITH ME.

True enough, Kíli sits squirming in Thorin's arms, desperate in his attempts to get free. He's babbling away, snatches of  _Unca_  and  _Fíwi_  the only distinguishable words. Then Kíli turns to Dís, who stands, staring tearfully at Fíli, shopping left abandoned on the floor. Fíli realises then, that it was not only Thorin who overheard his Hogswatch wish, but his Ma as well.

It is Thorin who breaks the suddenly silence, bringing Kíli forward to sit on the Hogfather's lap. The exchange that follows is comprised of Kíli's baby chatter and plenty of  _I SEE_ 'sand  _YES_ 's, followed by a grave  _I DO NOT THINK YOUR OWN, PERSONAL ARMY IS APPROPRIATE FOR ONE OF YOUR AGE_  and a  _WHAT WOULD YOU DO WITH IT_?

THIS IS AN ACCEPTABLE COMPROMISE, the Hogfather says eventually, handing Kíli an orange before passing him back to Thorin.

"Thank you," Fíli says, unsure of what else to say as he leaves.

YOU'RE WELCOME, the Hogfather replies, accepting a small, chocolate covered child from her harried mother.

Fíli does not talk at all on the way home, the kitten nestled snuggly in his hat. He supposes he should name her, but he doesn't really feel like doing anything right now. Dís doesn't talk either and the silence terrifies Fíli more than the crying had. There's a terrible ache in his stomach, coiling like an angry snake as he imagines all the punishments Dís might see fit to bestow. They weren't meant to talk about Da, because it made Ma sad and Fíli has made her very sad indeed.

Dís sends him straight to bed when they finally return, but Fíli does not sleep. The kitten does and Kíli does, the orange sitting on the dresser by Kíli's cot probably does too. Eventually, it gets too much, these fitful bursts of anxious sleep, and so Fíli quietly creeps downstairs. He is not alone in restfulness it seems, Dís sits silent in front of the fire, the clock on the mantle quietly ticking its way to 4:30, a pile of over-read letters open on the table beside her and a soft, blue silk ribbon wrapped around her wrist.

"Mama?" Fíli asks quietly.

"Oh Fíli," Dís says, voice hoarse and wet, opening her arms to him. "Come here."

Fíli climbs into her lap, leaning into her long-missed warmth. They have not sat like this in a while, not since Da died. "I'm sorry," he says.

"No," Dís says firmly. "I'm the one who should be sorry. I've not been a very good mum of late, have I?"

"You're sad," Fíli mumbles, repeating the words told to him time and time again.

"I am," Dís nods, squeezing Fíli tighter. "I miss your father very much and not a day goes by that I do not miss him, but I have neglected you and Kíli. You miss him too and I am so, so sorry that I haven't been there for you, but I will be now. So, talk to me."

"I want him back," Fíli confesses. "Like he promised."

"Do you want to see what I found in my stocking?" Dís asks, gathering the letters in one neat pile and handing them to Fíli.

"These are all from Da!" Fíli exclaims, carefully flipping through each neatly penned bit of paper.

"He sent us letter after letter that we never received," Dís explains gently. "We might not be getting Da back for Hogswatch, but I think the Hogfather gave us the next best thing."

"But you had them before!" Fíli says, recalling the same collection of letters and the same blue ribbon. "I hadn't see him yet."

"Some gifts are given when they are needed most," Dís says with a fond smile. "Your father understood that better than most," Dís adds stroking Fíli's hair. "He gave me you and he gave me Kíli and he gave me himself."

"He had good taste," Fíli mumbles.

Dis chuckles, taking the letters back. "Would you like me to read them to you?"

"Yes please," Fíli nods, repositioning himself so that he can face, the frost stained, star-speckled window.

" _To my darling Dís and dearest children…_ " Dís starts to read and in the dark, Fíli listens and watches the window, waiting for the sun to rise.

—

The sun rises.

—

Sometime earlier, before the sunrise, in the Ankh-Morpork Post Office, Death, with the aid of a grumbling Albert, searches through the dusty, neglected piles of endless undelivered letters. Eventually, with persistence and a little dash of magic, he finds what he's looking for: a bundle of letters, bound together with a soft, blue silk ribbon.

Taking the letters, Death travels back in time, only far enough so that the letters might be delivered at the right time; when they are needed most. It leads him to a door, old lacquered oak and locked against the world. A boy, rushes past, shoeless and grinning, his uncle's voice wafting up the stairs behind him:  _And don't forget your mittens or your hat!_

Inside the room, it is dark and quiet, save for the soft cries of the mourner on the bed. Above the fire hangs an empty Hogswatch stocking, the names Dís and Jóli embroidered on the hem. Death thinks of a little boy, whose mother is sad and his father is gone, and snaps his fingers; filling the stocking with noise makers and treats and toys, and nestled neatly on top, the letters and all the joy held within.

The fire roars to life in the hearth, Death disappearing in the sudden, bright light. It is enough to startle Dís, shakes her momentarily free of the oppressive heartache that grips her still. A moment is all it takes, sharp eyes latching onto the full stocking and the letters, familiar blue ribbon tied around them, held within. She snatches the letters, a painful ache in her chest as she tears into them. There were no letters, no post promised to her and yet…Dís' heart swells in her chest, pounding heavily as she reads the words neatly scribed upon the page:

_To my darling Dís and dearest children…_

—

Fin.


End file.
